


The Green Fairy

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Black Books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-15
Updated: 2008-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1627607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manny tries to have an especially festive Christmas at the shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Green Fairy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kuroitenshi

 

 

Manny was pleased with his efforts. The shop was clean - well, as clean as it ever got, he qualified. The sticky bit at the entrance was still there, but you could break free of it with just a little effort, rather than having to abandon your shoes (or sandals) and walk about in your socks, as was usually the case. All in all, it looked good. The books were mainly on the shelves, the bottles had all gone for recycling, and best of all, Bernard was still comatose in his pit, so the place was calm and quiet as well as clean. Manny rubbed his hands together, and started on phase two of his plan.

Fran wandered into the shop two or three hours later. She stopped suddenly, wine bottle clutched across her chest like some sort of shield. 

"Manny," she started slowly, "what have you done?" She looked round the shop, taking in the fairy lights, the stockings, the animated reindeer, the strings of cards, and, inevitably, the enormous pine bedecked in so much glitter it was hardly identifiable as something that had originally lived in the woods. The same might be said for Manny himself, wearing an elf hat with a flashing bobble on the end.

"Nice, isn't it?" Manny beamed. "Festive. I thought it would be nice to do Christmas properly for a change."

"But Bernard hates Christmas!" Fran wailed, and hurled herself down on a chair. She leapt up almost instantly, clutching her backside.

"Ah, sorry, I was meaning to clean that...let me help you..." Manny went to pluck the star shaped, spiky ornaments from Fran's trousers.

"Leave me alone!" she cried, batting him off. "Find the corkscrew and open that." She thrust the wine into his hands and carefully sat back down. "We will have a drink and think about what you can tell Bernard."

The bottle was two thirds gone and they were no further on in their explanation.

"But he might like it!" Manny tried for the hundredth time, "the lovely lights, the tree, it might make him happy, you know, festive spirit.."

"Unless the festive spirit is 40% proof, Bernard is not going to take to it. Manny, I hate to state the obvious, but you have met Bernard, haven't you?"

"I've worked for him for years," Manny huffed.

"And, in all that time, have you ever seen him happy? You know, laughing, cheery, smiling? Anything like that?" Fran emptied her glass in a gulp.

"There was that time when they delivered the crates of wine to us rather than to the off-licence down the road..." he mumbled.

"Ok, once. And how does the opportunity for free of charge alcohol poisoning in any way resemble a display of animatronic reindeer singing "Jingle Bells"? With associated, although in no way coordinated, motions?"

"I just thought it would be nice...And I would have thought you might have been a bit more supportive! Isn't the shop nicer like this? Cheery up a dreary December?"

"It is, Manny, really, it's all...very...Christmas-sy..." Fran trailed off and frowned at her empty glass. "My glass," she intoned, "is broken."

"Oh, sorry, Fran!" Manny scuttled off, came back with a fresh bottle. "It's a Californian red, I know Bernard hates the stuff, well, he does when he notices what he's drinking, but it's that or the Chilean merlot, and I don't think we're that drunk yet.." he paused. "Or I can go to the off licence, maybe get some chips on the way back as well.."

"Just open the bottle!"

Bottle opened and glasses repaired, they continued on the topic of the Bernard that stole Christmas.

"Where is he, anyway?" Fran asked.

"Bernard?"

"No, Santa." Fran rolled her eyes. "Of course, Bernard."

"He's still in bed, I think."

Fran looked at her watch. "But it's well past wine o'clock. Surely he should have been down, yelling, by now."

"Well, last night," Manny began, eyes flicking about the shop, "there was this." He plonked an empty bottle onto the desk between them.

Fran sat up. "No!" she exclaimed. "We were saving the absinthe for New Year! Devious bastard!" She sat back, arms folded, and pouted.

"Well, it was that, or the Chilean merlot," Manny explained.

"Fair enough then," Fran sat back up. "No wonder you haven't seen him yet..."

The curtains twitched, and a pale hand appeared through the gap, followed by what might be called a face, if it had been drawn by a three year old, with a crayon, underwater. In the dark. During a psychotic episode.

"Manny," Bernard croaked (for the apparition was he), "Manny, I think I need some fizzy-good."

"Yes, Bernard, of course," Manny leapt to his feet, "and a glass of water, and a cold compress..." 

Bernard scowled, and waved a hand in front of his blood shot eyes. "I don't know what was in that Absinthe," he muttered, "but I can see flashing lights...I blame you, you must have poisoned it, got some beard in it..." he flapped his hands again, cursed, and let Manny hustle him away.

Fran could hear the clattering of drawers, some stumbling, a screamed imprecation, muffled retching, and the clink of some glasses. Manny reappeared a few minutes later.

"Sleeping now," he offered.

"Unconscious, you mean. Bernard hasn't actually slept since 1998."

"Well, you know," Manny fiddled with his glass.

"So," Fran began, lighting a cigarette, "Bernard thought all the flashing lights were part of his hangover?" she asked, nonchalantly. 

"Seems so." He paused. "More wine, Fran?" 

Fran leaned forward and slapped Manny round the head.

"You devious so and so! You let him drink my Absinthe so you could put up your Christmas decorations and blame them on the green fairy!"

"What else could I do? Last year he threatened to eviscerate me and feed my gizzards to the customers in the form of home baked pies!"

"My Absinthe, though!" Fran wailed.

There was a muffled banging from the ceiling, accompanied by vicious shouting and retching. Fran and Manny subsided.

"Is that Chilean merlot all that's left?" Fran asked.

"Well," Manny looked sheepish, "that's all the wine. There is this..." he retrieved a fresh green bottle from under the table.

Fran raised an eyebrow.

Manny took down all the decorations the following day. The green fairy told him to; which made a change from Bernard. On the whole, he decided he would never drink Absinthe again. 

 


End file.
